


ooh la la (i've fallen in love)

by rainingroses05



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, GASP, Romance, Tumblr Prompt, falling for your best friend and all that good stuff, idk - Freeform, max never left for seattle, maybe i'll like... write more chapters for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-02-21 23:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13154238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingroses05/pseuds/rainingroses05
Summary: "That’s friendship. (And then some)."In which all Max has to worry about is school, photography, and falling for her best friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written anything in FOREVER because life is crazy! but here!
> 
> title from "I Would Do Anything for You" by Foster The People.

            Max shivers as Chloe takes her hand. This is one of those things that they’ve done since they were kids that somehow still feels… electric. Like a spark that’s never gone out.

            The flickering lights from the movie playing on Max’s computer wash over Chloe’s face and catch in her eyelashes when she blinks. She’s looking up at her with this sleepy, hazy look in her eyes, and Max smiles.

            “What?” Chloe asks, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

            “Nothing.” Max waits for Chloe’s little smile blossoms into a full, glowing grin before she leans into her, their intertwined hands sinking into the rumpled sheets. She rests her head on her shoulder and breaths her in until her lungs are full of her.

            Chloe is warm in her pajamas fresh out of the dryer. She rests her chin on top of Max’s head, mumbling indistinct whispers into her hair. 

            “Hmm?”

            “What are we doing tomorrow?” Chloe crosses her outstretched legs, her too-long plaid pajama pants rolling up over bare ankles.

            “I don’t know.” Max stifles a yawn. “We could go to the beach, take some pictures.”

            “You’re going to enter a photo in that contest, right?” It’s more of a reminder than a question, judging by the expectant look in Chloe’s eyes.

            Max hesitates, the breath caught in her throat. She turns her face in to Chloe’s neck, her hair brushing her face, and sighs.

            Chloe’s hand squeezes hers, the other coming up under her chin. “Hey. Aren’t you?”

            “I-“

            “Max Caulfield, you are entering that contest,” Chloe says, the way she does when she’s trying to convince her of something, where her voice is firm but her eyes go all soft, and it’s just a little bit hard to breath.

            Max exhales the barest whisper of an, “Okay.” The protesting doesn’t start again until she’s regained her balance, and Chloe draws her hand back to her side. Then she spits out, “But I don’t… I don’t really have anything to enter.”

            Chloe rolls her eyes, and Max sort of wants to scream and sort of wants to kiss her. “What about the one you showed me?” 

            “That one’s awful.”

            “No, it’s good.”

            “You say that about all of them.”

            “Because they all _are_ ,” Chloe says, and it’s that steady, earnest tone in her voice that makes Max bite her lip and look away. “C’mon, don’t you think you could just give yourself some credit?”

            Max wrinkles up her nose.

            Chloe shakes her head. “Whatever. That’s what _I’m_ here for I guess.” She nudges Max with her shoulder.

            Max playfully shoves her back. She runs one hand through Chloe’s hair, grinning when she tilts her head down with a slight smile. “Okay,” she sighs. “I’ll enter it. Only because you’re _so_ persuasive.”

            “Thank me when you’re famous.” Chloe kicks at the blankets until she’s managed to tuck her legs beneath them. “Just don’t go too far away,” she adds, a hint of something heavier in her voice now.

            “Do you really worry about that?” Max reaches down and pulls the blankets up over them, shoving her pillow beneath her head and lying down. She still clings to Chloe’s hand, tracing shapes over her knuckles.

            Chloe lies down next to her. “Maybe,” she says noncommittally, like she could just reach her hand out and snatch the word back.

            “Chloe…”

            “Whatever, it’s fine. I just… can’t even imagine what it would be like without you. I mean, boring, probably.”

            “Well, I’m not going anywhere.” Max reaches out and brushes Chloe’s hair back, her hand lingering just a moment too long on her cheek.

            Chloe ducks her head with a faint laugh, her smile the loudest sound in the room.

            “What? I’m just admiring my work.”

            Chloe shakes her head, bright blue hair failing messily into her face. “Only took us five years to actually get around to it, but…” She shrugs. “Thanks.”

            “Hey, better late than never.”

            A breeze pushes through the room, sending the flag hanging across Chloe’s window fluttering into the air. Max shivers and clings to the blankets.

            Chloe laughs, but she throws one arm around her and pulls her in close, and Max breathes in the scent of Two Whales pancakes and drugstore hair dye.

            “Chloe…” Max whispers, but she doesn’t know what else she was actually planning on saying. Her name just barely escaped before the sentence, among other things, faded away on her lips. 

            “Max,” Chloe says back, her voice soft enough that the slightest breeze could sweep it away.

            But that’s that, and Max lets the moment slip through her fingers. Sometimes holding on only gets your hands bruised. Then she starts working her courage up again from the bottom. She squeezes her eyes shut.

            Chloe’s breathing slows somewhere in the darkness, and Max can feel her drifting off. Her arm loosens around her shoulder, fingers barely grasping the sleeve of her T-shirt.

            Max opens her eyes and watches the steady and rise and fall of Chloe’s chest as soft breaths spill from between her half-parted lips. Max likes this, likes the gentle fluttering of her eyelashes, likes how she looks just as beautiful in the dim glow of fading nightlights as she would with moonlight splashed over her face.

            Maybe it’s because she still remembers being woken up in the middle of sleepovers by Chloe crying out in her sleep, reliving accidents she’d never really lived through in the first place. She lived through the aftermath. Maybe that’s just as bad.

            Max was with her when they got the news, and she didn’t know what else to do besides hold her tight and promise to never let go.

            (She’s known for a long time that they’re meant to be each other’s constants, that there will be times when they have to grit their teeth and weather each other’s storms.)

            That’s friendship. (And then some.)

            “Max?” Chloe says again in her half-asleep murmur, and Max has another one of those sort of wanting to kiss her moments.

            It’s becoming a bit of a common theme.

            “Yeah?”

            Chloe’s eyes snap open. Her hair makes her eyes stand out even more now, blue and blinking away sleep. She takes a breath like she’s going to say something and then silently breathes the words out.

            Max feels them brush against her cheeks before dissipating into the air. “What?”

            Chloe shakes her head. Her fingers slide up Max’s shoulder, trailing across her collarbone and her neck before tangling themselves into her hair.

            Max’s laugh is the sound of the butterflies in her chest fluttering their wings. She bites her lip to keep them from spilling out in a mess of words.

            There are rules that apply at night and those that cease to, and sometimes nighttime reaches out her dark, star-freckled finger and smudges the line between things like asleep and awake, content and restless, best friends and something more.

            And Max knows that there _are_ some moments worth holding onto, and there’s light from the moon spilling into the room. And Chloe’s hand is in her hair, and she tastes like the moonlight on her lips.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't posted anything in seriously forever but i am in fact alive and i wrote this extremely fluffy and short second chapter

            Chloe wakes up early enough to watch the sunlight slant through her windows and across Max’s face. She can hear the soft sound of her eyelashes beating against the pillowcase when she blinks, but she can’t be bothered to move except to brush Max’s hair off her cheek.

            Max is beside her, lips slightly parted, eyes closed, everything about her softened by sleep.

            She can hear her mom’s bedroom door open across the hall and her footsteps as she pads softly down the stairs in her sleeps. Soon enough, the smell of eggs and bacon will drift up from the kitchen and lure them out of bed. Although Chloe can’t imagine wanting to get up any time soon.

            Max moves in her sleep, her fingers brushing Chloe’s arm. She murmurs something indistinguishable, and her eyelashes flutter.

            She used to talk in her sleep all the time when they were kids. Chloe teased her about it, but she’d always sort of liked it.

            “Chloe?” Max yawns and blinks at her. Then she closes her eyes for a moment and opens them again, staring at her all the while like she’s trying to determine if she’s really there or not.

            “Morning,” Chloe says softly. She doesn’t actually know what’s supposed to happen next. Now that Max is awake everything seems just a little more _real._ Like she _probably_ didn’t just dream the whole thing.

            Her mom’s voice floats up from downstairs, calling them down for breakfast, so Chloe sweeps everything unsaid out of the air and nods to the door.

            “Breakfast?”

            Max stares at her for a moment before tilting her head to the side and smiling. “Obviously,” she says and throws back the blankets. “Race you downstairs.” She sits up quickly and scoots toward the side of the bed.

            Chloe laughs and grabs the back of her shirt.

            Max falls back onto the bed with a soft thump, her hair bouncing around her face as a surprised laugh bubbles up from her chest.

            Chloe hovers over her, and Max reaches up to rest her hand on her cheek.

            “Girls!” Joyce calls. “Breakfast!”

            Max laughs, her breath brushing Chloe’s face.

            Chloe ducks her head and moves away, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She grins at Max over her shoulder before lunging for the door. “Race you!” She takes the stairs in twos, sliding into the kitchen just as her mom sets two plates on the table.

            “Over ten years of this and no one’s broken a leg falling down those stairs. It _is_ impressive.”

            “Not fair, Chloe.” Max stumbles into the kitchen and shakes her head, smiling. “ _Not_ fair.” She blows her hair out of her face and slips past Chloe to the table.

            Their hands just barely brush. Chloe feels her breath catch in her throat for just a moment.

            “Sit down and eat before your food gets cold,” Joyce says, and Chloe realizes she’s just standing there in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot.

            Chloe slips into the chair across the table from Max, picking up her fork and digging into the pancake in front of her.

            “So, girls, what are your plans today?”

            Chloe looks up and raises her eyebrows at Max, who shrugs in response.

            “Uh, lighthouse?” she offers. She swings her feet back and forth under the table. Her pajama pants are too long, brushing against the floor. She hooks one leg around Chloe’s ankle.

            “Lighthouse,” Chloe echoes, calling into the kitchen, where her mom is flipping another pancake. She smiles back at Max, who has her chin in her hand as she watches a bird hop around in the backyard.

            It’s so Normal Saturday Morning- pancakes, sunshine, Max with her messy hair and sleepy yawns- that Chloe almost finds herself wondering if anything has actually changed.

            But then she’s thinking about Max and the lingering taste of vanilla on her lips, and that’s not something that Normal Saturday morning Chloe would be _this_ preoccupied with.

            It’s not until right before they leave that Chloe realizes they’re about to be alone together again, and she has absolutely no idea what she’s supposed to say. But, then, it’s Max, and they always seem to figure it out.

            Max turns on the radio as soon as they get in the truck. Then she changes the station so much that it’s obvious she doesn’t actually want to listen to music, just to have something to do.

            Usually the trek up the hill to the lighthouse is punctuated by pauses and laughter and camera flashes, but today it’s filled with this strange electric silence that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. All Chloe can really think about, though, is how last night feels like a century ago and she’d really like to hold Max’s hand.

            “So…” Max says when they reach the lighthouse. She blushes, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, and nudges the toe of her ragged shoes into the dirt at the base of the bench. “Are we going to, you know, talk…. about...”

            Chloe can’t help but grin.

            Max’s face flushes a deeper red, and she bites at her lip.

            “Do we need to?” Chloe steps forward, taking both of Max’s hands in her own.

            “Well, I guess we-“

            Chloe pulls her closer, looping her arms around her neck. Her fingers brush against her hair. She leans forward until their foreheads are pressed together.

            It’s all going pretty well until she finds herself looking directly in Max’s eyes, and she feels her entire face heat up.

            “No, definitely no talking,” Max says and tilts her head to the side and kisses her hard enough to make her head spin.

            It occurs to Chloe that this is everything she’s wanted since before she knew she was allowed to want it.

            “Does this count as a first date? Because this is hella romantic.”

            Max ducks her head and laughs against her neck, in a sort of breathless way that makes the sound even prettier. “And _my_ idea.”

            Chloe grins, and they watch the sun sparkle over the patch of sea. It seems somehow brighter this morning, but maybe it’s always been like this, and she’s just never taken a good look.

 


	3. Chapter 3

            Max sits in the midst of all the clothing that she owns and stares at her absolutely too small suitcase. She’s never hated packing more in her life. “Where’s the list, Chloe?” She turns her gaze to her bed, where Chloe lies on her stomach with her hands folded beneath her chin, surveying the disaster of a room.

            Chloe reaches her arm out to the side without sitting up and digs beneath a pile of t-shirts. Once she’s retrieved the list she smooths it out and holds it in front of her, clearing her throat. “Do you have… shirts?” She pats the pile beside her. “Check.” Her eyes scan left and right as she reads, and Max watches as she tries in vain to blow a piece of hair out of her face. It settles in a slight wave beside her nose. “Uh, something nice for the gallery?”

            Max hears the word “gallery” and the butterflies that have taken up permanent residence in her stomach beat their wings. “These are the options.” She gestures to three outfits laid out on the floor in front of her.

            Chloe stares at them blankly.

            “Well? Are you going to help me decide or what?”

            “Don’t I get a fashion show?”

            “Be helpful!” Max flings a stray sock in her direction.

            Chloe laughs, but it sounds almost as nervous as Max feels- which is decidedly _not helpful-_ but Chloe’s been lightening the mood all afternoon. Max supposes she can give her a break.  “Okay, okay. The one on the far right.”

            Max inspects Chloe’s choice.  A light pink sweater and a pair of jeans that are still in relatively good shape. Simple, nice enough, can be worn again in order to save suitcase space. She folds both items neatly and tucks them into her bag. “Okay. Next?”

            “Pants?”

            “Check.”

            “Socks?”

            “Check.”

            “Pajamas?”

            Max rises to her knees to peer up onto the bed. “Can you hand me that pile to your left?”

            Chloe leans over the side of the bed to hold the clothes to her, pausing suddenly. “Is that my-“

            Max reaches forward to snatch the clothes out of her grasp, feeling her face heat up. She _may_ have stolen a shirt. Or two. “I’m _borrowing_ it.” She tucks the pajamas into her suitcase, smoothing out the soft fabric of Chloe’s shirt.

            “I’m going to miss you,” Chloe says softly.

            When Max turns back to look at her she’s looking away, watching the wrinkled packing list flutter from her outstretched hand to the floor. She’s curled up on her side now, one arm tucked under her head, kicking at a rejected shirt. She just _fits_ there so perfectly that Max has the strange feeling she could leave for days and come back to her lying there just like that. “I’m going to miss you, too,” she says, and the words come out in a shaky sigh. She rests her hands on the end of her bed, gripping the blanket in her fists.

            Chloe lays a hand over one of hers. “This is _so_ cool for you, though, Max. I mean, this basically proves that you’re the best photographer at Blackwell- which I’ve been saying forever, obviously. It was about time everyone else noticed.”

            “It’s just one contest, Chloe.” Max looks down at her hands and lets go of the blanket, smoothing it out. She rests her head on the mattress. “I probably don’t even deserve-“

            “Come on, Max, you’re so talented. Someday you’re going to be famous and I’m going to be lucky enough to say I knew you when you still wore pirate pajamas to bed every night.”

            Max smiles, and Chloe pats a sliver of space on the bed not covered by heaps of clothing. Max gets to her feet and climbs onto the bed, settling into the space beside Chloe, their faces inches apart.

            Chloe leans forward and plants a hasty kiss on the side of her mouth, grinning. “I’m really proud of you.”

            Max lets out a breathy laugh and rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to call you every five seconds.”

            “Good. I’m going to be bored out of my mind without you around.”

            “We’re _so_ dramatic,” Max says, but she presses closer to her, resting her head on her chest. Her nerves still haven’t subsided, but there’s something comforting in lying here like this, in the closeness. Then there’s the fact that she’d rather do just about anything other than packing.

            A sense of tranquility falls over the room, warm and hazy in its stillness. The last of the mid-afternoon sunshine creeps lazily in, slipping between the blinds. Max sighs into the soft fabric of Chloe’s shirt. As soon as she closes her eyes, the world melts away until it’s only the two of them, warm. Being with Chloe is like that, always has been. Like the entire universe is theirs, and they’ve chosen their piece of it. These are the moments Max would like to live in forever.  She listens to her heartbeat until she almost forgets the sound of anything else.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a very short chapter, but writing it made me feel better after a very long week, so i hope you all enjoyed reading it <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the very long wait for this short little chapter   
> (p.s. happy pride month <3 <3)

            By the time they reach the lighthouse, the sun is dipping into the ocean, washing the crashing waves a deep red. 

            Chloe sits down on the bench while Max takes the obligatory photos of the burning sunset. They come up here so often that she wonders if this will be what she misses the most when they leave. The plan is to drive down the coast in an epic, coming of age movie-esque road trip. They’ll come home at the end of the summer before leaving again for school in the fall.

            Max eventually lowers her camera and joins Chloe on the bench, tucking her feet up beside her and resting her head on Chloe’s shoulder. “Are you nervous to leave?”

            Chloe shakes her head. “No.” Every time she thinks about seeing Arcadia Bay disappear down the road behind them, shrinking until it’s indistinguishable from a smudge on the rearview mirror, a jolt of excitement rushes through her veins. It’s not that she hates it here. (Arcadia Bay hasn’t always been kind, but it’s home). It’s more that the idea of leaving has always been so foreign that it’s become some sort of intoxicating dream.

            Max laughs. “Of course you aren’t. That’s fine, I’ll be nervous for both of us.”

            Chloe smiles. Max’s breath is soft and warm on her arm, almost in sync with the crashing ocean waves. “Come on, what is there to be nervous about? We have transportation, provided by yours truly, cash, a road trip playlist… what could possibly go wrong?”

            “You don’t even want to know the crazy things I could come up with, Chloe.”

            “Max, we could be living out of my truck in the middle of nowhere, and I’d still be happy just to be there with you.”

            Max’s smile is brighter than the sunlight spilling over the horizon, and Chloe swears her heart will stop just looking at her.

            “I guess we’ll be okay then,” Max says. Her voice sounds different when she smiles, sweeter, softer. “Although I’d rather not end up one of those starving artists living off love and bread crusts.”

            “Fair enough.” Chloe reaches for Max’s hand and intertwines their fingers. Graduation is just around the corner. This might be one of the last times they’re up here for a long time.

            She thinks a part of her has always wanted to leave. Maybe it’s because she has a persistent rebellious streak, and leaving just might be the ultimate act of defiance. There are certainly things she’d like to escape. It’s always been a part of the plan, whether she was conscious of it or not. (But not without Max. She’d never go anywhere without Max).

            “Chloe?” Max says her name softly, and Chloe realizes how tightly she’s squeezing her hand. She loosens her grip. “Are you sure you’re not nervous?” Her voice is slightly teasing but so deeply sincere in a way that makes Chloe’s breath catch in her throat.

            (What did she do to deserve all this?)

            Chloe takes a deep breath. “I love you,” she says, so fast that the words blur together, and she doesn’t even have to think about it because, in retrospect, she’s probably loved Max since love was an abstract feeling that she couldn’t even begin to define.

            “I love you, too,” Max says back, and laughs, breathlessly, loud enough for the whole ocean to hear.

            The last sliver of light slips below the horizon, and darkness sets in. Max lifts her head off of Chloe’s shoulder and looks out over the edge of the cliff.

            The night is gentle; the air still warm. Chloe lays one hand on the side of Max’s face and kisses her softly until she sighs against her lips. She untangles their fingers and brushes her fingertips against Max’s arm. “I’m going to miss it up here,” she says, casting a glance over the edge of the cliff.

            “Don’t worry,” Max says lightly, her face slightly flushed. She brings her left hand up to lay it over Chloe’s on her cheek. “I’m sure we’ll find plenty of new places for kissing.”

            Chloe laughs. “That’s not what I meant. I could do this anywhere.”

            “I know.” Max looks out at the horizon. “I think it’s good to get a little homesick. It means you have something worth missing.”

            “You should put that on a greeting card.”

            “Shut up.”

            “No, really,” Chloe says, “One with palm trees on the front.” She taps a finger against Max’s arm and leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “I don’t think I’ll get too homesick. Not with you around.”


	5. Chapter 5

            Max fiddles with her camera while Chloe fills the tank with gas. She’s brought enough film to last a lifetime. She’s brought almost everything she owns, really- or she _would’ve_ if it weren’t for Chloe’s reassurances that they really will have access to a washing machine.

            There’s a click as the driver’s side door swings open, and Chloe climbs into the car, tossing her wallet onto the dashboard and wiping her hands on her jeans. She throws Max a radiant grin over her shoulder and starts the car.

            “Do you need directions?” Max asks, holding up her phone, the navigation application loading.

            “Oh, Max,” Chloe says, making a hasty right turn. She shakes her head in mock disappointment. “Max, Max, Max. We go where the road takes us.”

            Max laughs, rolling down the window. The wind rustles through her hair.

            Chloe laughs, too, and at the next red light she fishes a crumpled up scrap of paper out of her pocket. Written on it in blue pen is an address for Max to plug into the navigation as their destination.

            The truck is mostly silent, except for the rush of wind through the open windows, a comfortable, easy sort of quiet punctuated by the occasional burst of giddy laughter. Max opens the glove compartment, sifting through the papers that spill out into her lap. Take-out menus, scribbled drawings, concert ticket stubs.

“Nosy, much?” Chloe glances over at her, raising her eyebrows.

            Max shrugs, continuing through her pile of stolen artifacts. “If you weren’t such a hoarder, there wouldn’t be anything interesting for me to look at.” Max sets aside a napkin with a messy comic drawn on it and finds herself looking through the lens of her own camera. She runs her thumb over the smooth film. The photograph must have been taken at least a year ago: Chloe, sitting on the beach, the tide just inches away from her bare feet, her face tilted toward the sky. There are more, too: beaches, sunsets, selfies. “Do you keep every picture I take?”

“Pretty much,” Chloe says. “Why wouldn’t I?”

            Max smiles down at the array of papers and photographs on her lap. It’s sort of like looking straight into Chloe’s brain, or her heart, and she likes seeing some of herself there. (Her desk drawer is filled with Chloe’s drawings, too). Everything about the two of them has always been intertwined.

            “Put on the music.”

            Max shuffles everything into a pile and shoves it back into the glovebox before pulling Chloe’s bag up from its place by her feet. The CD is in the front pocket, enclosed in a clear plastic case. Max pops the case open and spins the CD between her fingers. Colors reflect off the disc, painting a rainbow on her hand. “What’d you put on here?”

            Chloe grins, her face lighting up, clearly proud of herself. “All the good stuff. And some of your hippie junk, too.”

            “Hey!” Max slides the CD into the player. They’re pulling onto the highway now, and she rolls up her window as wind begins to roar past the car. The speakers crackle as the CD starts to play, music flooding into the truck.

            The two quiet down for a long stretch of highway. Chloe taps her fingers against the steering wheel. The navigation app on Max’s phone still highlights the route to the night’s accommodations, but she takes the next exit and parks outside a convenience store with half the letters missing from its name. She unbuckles her seatbelt and leans over the center console, taking Max’s arm and pulling her closer until their foreheads touch.

            Max reaches out and wraps her hand around Chloe’s wrist.

            Chloe kisses her hard, one hand tangling into her hair.

            “Was that the point of this stop?” Max asks when they break apart, raising an eyebrow in Chloe’s direction.

            “Oh, please,” Chloe says, tucking the car key into her pocket. “We’re here for snacks.”

             “Snacks,” Max echoes. “Sure.”

            “So, this is the plan,” Chloe says as they climb out of the car, doors slamming in neat succession. She takes Max’s hand and smiles at her conspiratorially, like they’re kids again, and this is another one of their adventures.

            “We’re not robbing a convenience store, Chloe, if that’s where this is going.”

            “Damn it. Guess we’ll move on to plan B.”

            An electronic chime sounds as they enter the store, and the older woman behind the counter greets them half-heartedly.

            “Divide and conquer. I’ll do chips, you do sweets,” Chloe says and squeezes Max’s hand once before letting go.

            Max steps into the candy aisle and immediately picks out a jumbo bag of mini Kit-Kats. After walking the length of the aisle, she finds a giant Hershey bar to split, a bag of M&M’s, and the (absolutely disgusting) white chocolate Reese’s that Chloe likes.

            “Max!” Chloe calls from somewhere to the left, and Max stands on her toes to look into the next aisle, where Chloe is holding up a bag of hot Cheetos like an emergency flare. “Are you ready?”

            Max gives her a thumbs-up over the racks of candy and walks to the front of the store. They dump their findings on the counter, and Max watches as the cashier scans the items, starting with Chloe’s bags of chips. She nods in approval.

            Back in the car, Max sets the bag of snacks by her feet and selects a bag of chips to start with, handing Chloe a few at a time. The music starts up again, songs that Chloe sings along to at the top of her lungs, head tipped back and hands tapping against the steering wheel.  

            Between songs, they talk about everything they’re going to see this summer, and how silly they were to buy ten bags of snacks and absolutely no drinks, and the way the sky looks out the windows. Sometimes Max marvels at how they’ve been talking and talking for so long and never run out of things to say.

            Eventually Max takes her camera back out to snap pictures of the trees and the ocean in the distance and Chloe sitting in the driver’s seat with the sun coming in through the window.  When she sets the camera down and picks up her phone, the blue line showing the distance to their destination has grown much shorter, the motel a white dot not too far down the map and the exit even closer. “I think we’re getting off the freeway in a few miles.”

            Chloe nods. “Let’s take a quick detour, then,” she says and pulls off the highway at the next exit, crossing the lanes to their right in what any sane driver would classify as a dangerous maneuver. But she’s grinning with such excitement that Max chooses to ignore her reckless driving in favor of simply smiling back.

            The truck rattles down the road in the direction of the beach. The sun is setting, and the music on the CD is changing with the sky, soft guitar spilling through the speakers. Thinking about Chloe sitting in her room, imagining the two of them driving at sunset, setting it to a soundtrack, makes something swell in Max’s chest, and she reaches over to squeeze Chloe’s arm.

            “What?”

            Max smiles. “I’m just happy. I’m having the time of my life.”

            “I _told_ you everything would be okay. You thought we’d be hitchhiking home at this point, and here you are, having the ‘time of your life.’”

            Max laughs.

            “You were _totally_ right, Chloe,” Chloe teases, and Max nudges her arm. She parks so close to the beach that there’s sand on the tires, and they wander down toward the waves.

            Max shivers in the slight breeze, and Chloe throws an arm over her shoulder. Max presses up against her side until she’s halfway tucked beneath her jacket, and warm.

            The beach here doesn’t look so different from Arcadia Bay- it’s still the coast of Oregon, after all- but it somehow feels like they’re already far from home. Maybe the after effect of growing up in a small town is that driving a few hours down the coast feels like a long journey.

            The sun is slipping into the waves, casting light across the water as it goes. The sky is tinted in pink and red hues, the clouds soaking up the colors.

            There’s something so infinite in the ocean, and it bleeds into the sand, the air. It seems that if the world ended, the ocean would go on still, untouched. And- maybe because Max can’t picture the feeling in her chest ever going away, maybe because of their close proximity to the never-ending plane of the ocean- the two of them seem eternal, too.

            “There’s no one I’d rather be doing this with,” Chloe says softly, pulling Max closer and resting her chin on the crown of her head.

            “I can’t picture being here with anyone else.”

            “It’s sort of like home, right? Watching the sunset.”

            Max nods into Chloe’s chest.

            “When you got back from your trip to San Francisco, you said homesickness is worst on the first night away. So, I thought…” Chloe trails off, looking over at her.

            Max wraps her arms around her neck and pulls her down into a kiss. That’s the best part of love grown from friendship, she thinks. Chloe knows her better than anyone in the world, how to make her laugh, how to soothe every ache.

            When the sky and the water grow dark, they walk through the sand back to the truck. Max curls up in the passenger seat, one arm strewn across the center console to keep hold of Chloe’s hand. The truck’s heating system has been broken for who knows how long, but Chloe hands her a jacket from the backseat, and it’s warm enough that she can feel herself dozing off. She slips in and out of sleep until they arrive at the motel, the truck jolting to a stop as gently as it possibly can, and Chloe kisses her cheek.

            In their room, they lie tangled up together on the thin mattress, Chloe with her arms wrapped around Max’s waist and Max with one leg hooked around Chloe’s thigh. Max closes her eyes and listens to Chloe breathe and almost laughs at how nervous she was before they left. She can’t remember a day when they haven’t both taken care of each other.

            Falling for your best friend isn’t the worst thing in the world.

 


End file.
